Frailty Is To Blame
by Blue soir
Summary: Accidentally deleted the into to Chapter 1. (I'll try to figure out how to get that back.) In Chapter 2, there is a murder. And, we find out about Jack's work woes.
1. Chapter 1

"Jack!" Phryne exclaimed, opening the door.

"Miss Fisher," Jack bowed slightly, smiling, trying to take in all of her at once. A stunning plunge cut backless sapphire blue gown set off her creamy white skin.

"How do I look, Jack?" She asked, turning around. Clusters of hanging diamond beads rippled as she moved, showing off to great advantage a diamond necklace with a single large teardrop sapphire. The diamonds around Phryne's neck dulled in comparison to the twinkle in her eyes, Jack noticed as she smiled. Her black silky bob swayed as she turned towards him.

"Positively resplendent."

"You are looking quite dashing yourself, Inspector," Phryne said playfully smoothing out Jack's tuxedo lapel. "I am glad you called," she said, leaning in very, very, close, "I was afraid you've avoiding me, Jack." Except for some brief moments during their "Christmas in July," since Sidney Fletcher was arrested and George Sanderson was disgraced, Phryne had hardly heard from Jack at all. It bothered her more than she would admit.

Jack coughed slightly and escorted Phryne to the car at a safe distance. The truth is, he had been avoiding Phryne ever since the new Chief Commissioner opened up an investigation into Jack's involvement in the "Sanderson Affair," as it was now called, and the scandal wracking the Victorian Police Force.

"So, I am intrigued," Phryne said after several minutes, dismissing the uneasy silence between them as Jack drove into central Melbourne. "What are we going to see?"

"See?" Jack asked, confused.

"You called at the last minute, asked me to be ready at 7:30, which I was, by the way, and then said that you would be wearing a tuxedo. I deduced that you were taking me to the opera."

Jack pulled up to the curb and gestured out of the window. "As it happens, Miss Fisher, we are not going to the opera. I am escorting you to the Melbourne Public Library Benefit Gala."

"You are taking me to a society ball?" Phryne asked, incredulous as the valet opened her car door. "This_ is_ a surprise." And it was; both that Jack had any interest in attending a society function and that he had any interest in escorting her to one.

Phryne hesitated as she got out of the car. Earlier that day she had been planning on attending the gala with Richard Blackington, a dashing, utterly charming old friend visiting from England, and then Jack called with his cryptic invitation, and well . . . she made a last minute excuse to her escort, begging off because of a headache. This could get awkward, she thought, and heads would most certainly turn. Dickie Blackington's would of course, as would Aunt Prudence's. Aunt P had a soft spot for Jack, to be sure, but he was, after all, a police inspector.

"I just assumed you would be going anyway." Jack said, crossing across the car to meet her. Before them stood the magnificent Public Library building, with its Beaux-Arts façade and massive marble stairs leading up to the main entrance. "Hugh said that Dot said that you...and I thought," Jack stammered, "...you would want someone…well, and I understand that you are a great benefactor to the library." He stopped on the stairs up to the main entrance and sighed. "I mean I understand that you are on the board of the public library, and this is the event of the season, so I assumed you would be going."

"That is sound logic, Jack," Phryne replied vaguely as they mounted the stairs, realizing that Jack just assumed that she would be attending alone. This just might turn out to be a very interesting evening after all, Phryne thought.

Jack led her into Queens Hall where the glitterati and literati of Melbourne society swirled about before them. Phryne took two glasses of champagne from a waiter's tray. "So Rosie wasn't available tonight, Jack?" She asked, her tone a bit biting. She offered Jack a glass, testing the whispers and rumors around town in the past few weeks that Sidney Fletcher's ex-fiancée, Rosie Robinson, née Sanderson, and her handsome police inspector former-husband seemed to be quite close these days.

"No, thank you, Miss Fisher." Jack waved off the glass and ignored her question. "I'm am here to make inquiries."

"Oh" Phryne said softly, pursing her lips into a round "O." "So, you asking me to come with you tonight is..." "...is me possibly requiring your assistance on a case," Jack said, suddenly thinking this may have been a mistake.

Normally Phryne would be thrilled to be included in one of the Victorian constabulary's cases. Not just to be included, she realized, but for Jack to be including her – as a partner and maybe something more.

Jack noticed her face darken. "There is a delicate situation," he explained, "and I could use the assistance of someone with familiarity and access to a particular social set, as it were."

"So, this is a police investigation, and you need access to some of Melbourne's upper sets in a, shall we say, unobtrusive way?"

"I wouldn't put it exactly like that-"

"-And in return, for my help, Inspector, you shall...?" Phryne knew she had the upper hand.

". . . assure you of the valuable service you are rendering to the public at large?"

"Come on, Jack, surely you can do better than that." Phryne thrust one hand on her hip in defiance.

Jack lifted an eyebrow. "As you are no doubt aware, Miss Fisher, the police have been licking their wounds lately, with a good third of the force relieved of duty and the rest either embroiled in scandal or embarrassed to be seen in public," not that anyone on the force would have been invited to a socially prestigious event like the Gala. "Most members of the force don't think they should be at a society function."

"Lady Burton certainly would agree," Phryne said, smiling sweetly at the lioness chairwoman of the Library Board of Benefactors, who scowled at them as she walked by. "Very well. If I am to be used for my social connections, then, Jack, you'd better be out with it. What is this all about?"

"The head librarian is being blackmailed."

"Whatever for?" Phryne asked.

"We're not sure, but I have an idea. I think I had best show you." Jack motioned for the grand staircase when, out of the corner of her eye, Phryne spotted Richard Blackington coming towards them.

"Phryne!" He leaned in ignoring Jack, taking both of Phryne's arms and kissing her on both cheeks, lingering a bit longer than necessary in Jack's opinion. "I must say you are looking excessively well. Your Aunt and I were both very concerned about you. I insisted that we check on you on our way here, but your butler said that you were indisposed." Dickie straightened up a bit and held Phryne at arms' length and chided her, "I say, P, I didn't expect you to put me off, only to show up tonight on another man's arm. I should be quite jealous you know."

"I am quite well, Dickie, I..." Phryne was searching for an explanation when Dickie cut her off. "I do hope you remember, old girl, that you promised me a night of dancing tonight to dawn, if you are feeling up to it of course." Jack stared at them for a moment, mouth slightly open, realizing that Phryne had been attending the Gala with this tall, broad shouldered, some might say handsome, obviously public school-educated newcomer who seemed to know Phryne quite well. Too well.

"Dickie," Phryne said, recovering quickly, "let me present you to Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, City South Police. Jack, this is Richard Blackington." she said formally. Then, leaning in, Phryne said, "Dickie is an old friend newly arrived from England visiting us for a while. His father is the Earl of Artsley," Phryne whispered to Jack.

"So this is the infamous Detective Inspector?" Dickie extended his hand. "Phryne has told me about your work together. It is a pleasure. And, please, call me Dickie," he said giving Jack a warm smile. "Only my father and my captain have ever called me Richard."

By rights, Dickie should have come off snobbish and aloof, but Jack had to admit that he had a frank and confident charm, along with a disturbing overly familiar arm draped about Phryne's waist in a way that only an intimate friend would. "Infamous?" Jack asked, sounding a bit more annoyed than he should.

Phryne leaned in to Dickie and whispered loud enough for Jack to hear, "Dickie, dear, this isn't personal. We're here on a case." Jack stiffened. He did say that this was not a social outing, and he had been purposefully vague with Phryne about tonight. The possibility of them being something more than just working on a case appealed to him way more than it should.

"You sly fox," Dickie winked at Phryne, "and here I was concerned about your health. So, has there been another murder?" he asked conspiratorily.

"It is a bit of a delicate situation, you see." Jack interjected, "Official business. I'm sure you understand."

Dickie looked at Phryne and then at Jack, and back again. "We'll, very good. Enjoy your police business, Inspector. And you, P darling" Dickie said, turning to Phryne, "I don't care if the King of England is my cousin and he's murdered here tonight. You owe me at least one dance, or I will take it out on your whisky."

"Of course, my Lord" Phryne said coquettishly, hold out her hand so Dickie could kiss it. "One dance."

Dickie walked away, and Phryne turned to Jack. Each expected an explanation from the other. "Where do I begin Miss Fisher?" Jack started, exasperated.

"At the beginning of course." Phryne said, dodging his meaning. "Tell me the whole story."

Jack stared at her not flinching, and Phryne gave in first, "Ok, if you must know, Dickie is the eldest son and heir of the Earl of Artsley. He is an old friend, and he has a reputation of being somewhat of a rake, but that isn't true. He is, though, the cousin to the King of England," Phryne said, drinking down the last of her champagne. "That part is true."

"Of course he is."

"Dickie and I have been very close for some years. He is very heroic, and he has rescued me from harrowing situations on more times than I can count. He pops in periodically to check on me."

Jack's dislike for this mysteriously appearing earl grew instantly. He held up his hand. "Please, Miss Fisher, no more. Why don't we focus on the task at hand?" He turned and faced her squarely. "I could use the assistance of a lady detective," he said with a wink.

Phryne's face lit up immediately. "Then, Inspector, assistance you shall have." She swirled her glass of champagne, as Jack gestured up the stairs. "Now, we just need to get upstairs without being seen, Miss Fisher."

"Happy to assist, Jack. This way." Phryne beckoned him to the other direction, and Jack followed her to a side service staircase, where a hidden panel revealed a small service staircase. Phryne shrugged. "They have been give the Board members rather exhaustive tours to gain support for the renovations. Better than watching the entire hall gossiping about us."

Once upstairs, the two walked along the balcony gallery, and at an unlit spot, leaned along the railing, elbow to elbow, in an old familiar way, surveying the great hall as the crème de la crème of Melbourne society flitted about. Jack felt comfortable for the first time in weeks.

"Over here," Jack turned and led Phryne into a dimly lit reading room, filled with boxes. They could barely move among the boxes and moving crates.

"Are you trying to lure me away from the crowd and seduce me, Inspector," Phryne whispered into Jack's ear, pressing closer to him. Music from the gala below drifted softly in from the dimly lit corridor. He could feel her warmth pressing against him and her breath brushing on his ear. "I hope so."

Jack tried to ignore her. This may be more difficult than he anticipated, he thought, fumbling at a wall switch and managed to get the light on. He motioned for Phryne to pick up slim volume on the table in the center of the room.

"Are you joking?" she exclaimed turning the book over in her hand. "A banned book? That is what this is all about? Surely you can't believe that society needs protecting from some racy romans à clef, Jack. They're just words really, I mean look at this." Phryne picked volume after volume and put them down one by one. "Ulysses?" Too difficult to read to be subversive. Germinal? Too much about coal. Lady Chatterly's Lover? Who hasn't read that Jack?" Phryne asked, with an arched eyebrow. "So the librarian has a room full of banned books, and you think someone is blackmailing her over that?"

Jack nodded.

"What have the police done about it?"

"Nothing yet, this is still an unofficial inquiry."

Jack hesitated. "I am looking into this discreetly for my mother. She is a neighbor of the librarian." Phryne pondered that for a moment. Jack had never mentioned his family before; it caught her off guard. "But yes," he continued. "Possibly. The books are not the problem. It is that someone was able to sneak them past customs that is the problem. Other things have recently been smuggled in past customs, including a healthy supply of pure cocaine that has made its way onto Melbourne streets."

Cocaine? That could be worth blackmailing about. Phryne looked at the books, and a number of the volumes seemed familiar to her. Too familiar. Surely these books were not part of the shipment from England that Dickie brought over with him, were they? He did say that he was bringing her books and that he had a surprise for her, and she had not thought through what that surprise might be.

"Ahh, look," Phryne tossed a book at Jack and a card fluttered out. "A personal favorite," she said, "the love poems of Ovid. Now that is a subversive text if ever I saw one."

Jack caught the book midair, quoting: "Let every man who loves a woman that requites his love drink deep of his delight and spread his sails to prospering breezes."

"Very good, Inspector," Phryne praised, bending down to pick up the card, recognizing the Artsley crest on it. "You know your classics."

Jack stooped down as well and turned towards her. "Well, let's have it then. It looks like a calling card."

"No," Phryne said, "it is blank. Just a bookmark." "Give it over, Miss Fisher," Jack pressed. He swore he saw markings on the card. "What on earth would a bookmark be evidence of?" Phryne tried to sound glib, but came off as slightly shrill as she whisked the card off the floor and folded it into the palm of her hand.

Before Phryne could stand up, Jack grabbed for Phryne's hand and landed on her arm, knocking her slightly. His hands encircled her bare flesh just above her gloves and he pulled her into him as he tried to keep her from falling backwards. As Phryne put her hand on his jacket as if to balance herself, Jack froze, their faces just inches apart. Jack looked into Phryne's eyes and he could see her pupils dilate, and she tilted her head slightly. They were closer than they had ever been. He could feel he pulse quicken as he instinctively brushed his thumb across her inner arm. Phryne's skin was as soft as he imagined, and for a split second, Jack could no longer hear the music in the hall below. Here and now it was just the two of them, completely alone, inappropriately close. Jack could feel the electricity between them arc. He did not realize how much he had missed her until this very moment, when he loosened his grip on Phryne, letting her arm slide out of his hand, and looked at her face again. Phryne's lips part ever so slightly, and her eyes locked onto Jack's.

"Phryne, I-" Jack said through the thick tension between them, "It's time-" He wanted to explain why he had stayed away all these weeks.

"To get back to the party, I think, n'est pas?" Phryne broke in, cutting the connection between them. She stood suddenly, throwing Jack back on his heels. She didn't want to know. She had heard the rumors about Jack and Rosie. She came tonight because she was intrigued, but to Jack this is just business, even if there is an undeniable connection between them.

In one motion, Phryne smoothed out her dress, flipped her hair into place, secreted the card into her purse. "Why don't you tell me what this is all about over another glass of champagne?" Phryne asked, darting out of the room. It would have been perfect to have Jack all alone in one of these rooms, she thought, but...

Jack followed and almost smashed right into Phryne as she stopped short right outside of the doorway. Jack's face was inches from Phryne's head and the smell of her perfume paralyzed him slightly. Phryne put her hand up across Jack's chest, pushing him back against the wall, and spoke to him quietly without turning her head. "Someone else is sneaking around the gallery, Jack."

"We're not sneaking, Miss Fisher."

"Oh, that's not what you call it when you don't want to be seen going upstairs with a woman?"

Jack thought for a minute. They were just standing too close for him to be able to think straight. He tried to come up with a witty retort when then heard a blood-curdling scream from the great hall downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

I apologize this took so long to get out. Aside from some crazy things going on in general (like my car catching on fire and exploding on a LA freeway!), I had a hard time writing this out and making sure I was being consistent to Chapter 1 and the characters themselves.

But, thank you so, so, so, so much for the reviews. They really do motivate! If you have any comments, please let me know. I fear this came out darker than I had originally envisioned and it moves a bit slow, but the good news is that I have plotted out the rest of the story, and after this it picks up.

Chapter 2

Jack and Phryne rushed to the balcony railing to see a crowd gathering below along the far side of the hall. "This way," Phryne said tugging on his sleeve to pull him down the hall. The beads of Phryne's dress swished behind her as Jack followed her to another service staircase and down to the crowd below.

As they exited the stairwell through a mahogany paneled door, Phryne spotted her Aunt standing next to Dickie Blackington and rushed over. "What happened, Aunt Prudence?"

"I don't know dear - I haven't gotten close enough." Aunt Prudence was a good deal shorter than most of the crowd, but Dickie, who was quite tall, looked about and added, "it is hard to see, but it appears there is someone lying down. Seems to have created quite a stir, whatever it is."

Jack kept walking past them. "Police," he said with one hand up, pushing his way through the crowd. Phryne followed with Dickie one step behind.

They made their way to a small clearing. Between a half wall and a card catalog cabinet lie a body face down in a small pool of blood. Jack recognized instantly back of the sensible tweed suit of the head librarian he had spoken to the other day. A pretty young Marcel waved brunette in a peach chiffon evening gown sobbed silently off to the side, holding a handkerchief up to her face.

Jack looked back to Phryne, who kneeled down next to the body to look for a pulse. Phryne nodded her head side to side. The woman was dead.

Taking command of the scene, Jack barked, "Step away everyone, step away. You too, Sir," looking at a miffed Dickie Blackington.

From across the clearing, Collins stepped forward in a tuxedo. "I'm here sir." Jack had asked him to come to be an extra pair of eyes and ears, and now, amid the mayhem and harsh whispers of the Great Hall, he was thankful for Collins calm presence. He looked about the crowd and saw Dot nearby.

"Collins, ask the staff to lock down the hall. We will need to talk to the guests."

Jack turned to the young woman, "Miss, I'm sorry, your name is?"

"Fiona, F-F-Fiona Brown," she sniffled, wiping at the corner of her eyes.

"I assume you knew the deceased?" Phryne asked.

"Yes," she said still sobbing, "It is Mrs. Winters, Amelia Winters, the head librarian. I'm new in Melbourne training to be an assistant librarian." Her accent was more English than Australian, Phryne thought, but that could have been the hallmark of an expensive education.

"Did you see anyone near the card catalogs?"

"No. Earlier today, we moved the card catalogs out of the way for the Gala tonight. a short while ago, I realized that I must have dropped an earring. I thought it may have fallen out when we were setting up the hall, so I pulled one of the cabinets back. And when I did, I…" Miss Brown trailed off and Phryne put her arm around her in moral support.

The music had stopped playing and strains of anxiety could be heard in the rustling crowd. "Jack," Phryne's eyes swept the restless onlookers and inclined her head towards the main door. "I think we need to get her out of here." Phryne turned to Miss Brown, "I am Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective."

"Oh!" Miss Brown responded. "You are Mrs. Stanley's niece. She was very kind to me during my interview with some of the Board members."

"Yes, I am, and I am happy to help." Phryne replied.

A young man in a formal dinner jacket appeared. Not exactly appropriate for the occasion, Phryne thought, but he wears it well. "Are you all right, love?" he asked, putting an arm around Miss Brown. "What happened?"

"Oh Patrick, I am so glad you are here. It's Mrs. Winters. She's dea—" Miss Brown stopped suddenly, burying her face into his chest.

Jack and Phryne exchanged glances while the young man turned to them and said, "My name is Patrick Killian. I am Miss Brown's fiancée."

Overly polite, Phryne thought, and an Irishman. Hmmmm. Before she could respond, old Lady Bellamy, head of the board of directors of the Library, cut through the crowd followed closely by Emily Dahlham, the senior assistant librarian. Lady Bellamy shook a heavily jeweled finger into Jack's face. "Surely, young man, you can't expect the height of Melbourne society to sit and wait to be interviewed by the police here."

"Madam," Jack said quietly. "It appears there has been a death. And the death does not appear to be an accident. Whoever is responsible may still be here. We simply cannot let the guests leave until they have been interviewed. Jack looked at the pool of blood at his feet. "Collins, take down the name and contact for every guest. We will follow up and interview them one by one."

Just then, an authoritative voice cut the scene. "Police. Coming through. Step aside, Miss, please. Assistant Commissioner William Halloway, coming through." The Assistant Commissioner showed his credentials to the onlookers and turned to Jack. "Robinson?" He roared, "what on earth are you doing here?"

"Sir," Jack stammered slightly, "I happened to be already on the scene, and …"

"And nothing. You know right well you cannot be handling this. You are jeopardizing the crime scene."

Phryne raised an eyebrow. Jack?

"And what is this about keeping guests waiting?" As Halloway turned to the address the crowd, Jack noticed Lady Bellamy on the Assistant Commissioner's heels. "Let's have the Gala guests leave at once. My dear," he said to Miss Brown, "I will have Lady Bellamy take you home straightaway." Then, turning to Collins he said, "Lady Bellamy and the Library's Gala committee can give us a complete guest list and information we need."

"You can't let the guests go," Phryne interjected, physically wedging herself between Jack and Assistant Commissioner Halloway. "The body is still warm. The killer must still be here."

"Miss Fisher, the impertinence!" Lady Burton exclaimed.

"Ahhh, Miss Fisher," the Assistant Commissioner sighed. "I suppose it is no surprise to find you here."

Jack winced, but thankfully the Assistant Commissioner spoke up before she could respond. "It is my decision, and the guests shall go. This includes you, Miss Fisher, and You, _Mister_ Robinson," Halloway said.

Phryne looked at Halloway, and for once she was speechless. Inspector Taylor stepped forward, and said quietly, "Don't worry, Jack. We'll take care of everything. Let me take you statements, and then you can head home."

Taylor waited for some time to take their statements, stalling, Jack knew, to give him time to take in the scene. Good man! Even though everyone had been allowed to leave, a number of guests stayed on to gossip and stare, but neither Jack nor Phryne had gotten any useful information from the various guests they managed to talk to at the exit. No one recalled seeing or hearing anything near the card catalogues, and everyone disagreed as to when Miss Winters was last seen.

It was well after midnight when Jack took Phryne home to her St. Kilda house. They had not said a word to each other the entire way home. Phryne put her purse on the small hall table and headed straight into the parlor. Per their usual routine, she poured two glasses of out whisky from the decanter Mr. Butler had left out as Jack hung his hat and coat up on the hall rack. Jack took his usual place standing at the fireplace, and Phryne offered him a glass.

"So, _Mister_ Robinson," Phryne started, with one hand poised on her hip, "Normally, I would say we have a case to discuss, but it appears that there are more pressing matters at hand."

"Well, I . . . " Jack hung his head, staring into his tumbler and swirling the whiskey around. He lifted his eyes to look at Phryne without moving his head. Phryne caught his gaze and held it. "I hardly know where to begin," Jack said, picking his head up. He knew he owed her an explanation, and this was not the way he had planned to do it.

"You could start by explaining what your current status is with the police force, _Mister_ Robinson. I suppose that is why I haven't seen or heard from you in a month, Jack?" Phryne asked in a haughty tone.

She had assumed that Jack had avoided her for the past month because he had been with Rosie. In fact, she knew he had been, if the gossips at the Melba Cruise Beauty Salon were to be believed. It was an unsettled subject between them, but it was up to Jack to address that issue. She had no right to expect anything from Jack, even though she did. But, what really upset Phryne more, though, is that Jack had not confided in her about his work troubles. Above anything else, they were partners, weren't they?

Jack tightened perceptibly at her incisive question. The look on his face showed that this very proud man was hurting, and as he clenched his hand into a tight fist and Phryne wished instantly she could take the question back. "Jack," she said gently, facing him, "I know the stuff you're made of and I'm on your side. But I have to know everything if I am to help you."

"Phryne, it looks bad." Jack shook his head and stared into his glass. "No, it is bad."

"You were sacked?" She asked in disbelief.

"Not sacked yet, but close enough. Suspended, pending investigation," Jack replied. "But Halloway has made his feelings quite clear, as you could see tonight. The 'mister' business was just Halloway reminding me of where I stand."

Phryne's eyes softened as she reached up for his hand. She unfurled each of his fingers massaging them one by one. "Why don't you tell me what happened from the beginning?"

Jack did not know if it was her tone or her touch, but he knew then that, whatever was between them, at least she was on his side in this. A sense of relief flowed through him. All of these weeks he had been reluctant to face her for fear that he would not live up to her expectations of him. Not so long ago, Phryne had called him the noble man who always did the right thing. He had been clinging to those words over these past weeks, and he feared what she would say when it seemed as though that he hadn't done the right thing? He turned his head to one side, and said, "I suppose it goes back to when George Sanderson was accused of murder."

"At the Imperial Club."

"Right," Jack said, blushing slightly. He couldn't think of the Imperial Club without remembering the spectacle of Phryne in her fan dance costume, if you could call it that. "Madame Leon kept a box, with bits and bobs taken from the various patrons of the club."

"Fletcher's box. It was found in the Sanderson Affair."

"The Sanderson Affair?"

Phryne bit her lip and looked around the room to avoid Jack's eyes. "That is what they are calling it in the newspapers."

"Right," Jack said, taking a swig of whisky. He had purposely been avoiding reading the newspapers and their sensational coverage. His reputation had always been beyond reproach, and it pained him to see his name dragged through the mud. "We caught the killer at the Imperial Club," he continued, "but we never found the box. I just never thought George. . . ." Jack stopped, took a sip of whisky, and cleared his throat. He started again, "When the box was found, it took down a third of the Department."

Phryne knew from the newspaper accounts that, in the wake of the scandal, a lot of good police officers who had committed only small improprieties were brought down because of their alleged connection to a white slave trade ring.

"Good people were forced out, Miss Fisher, but not me. Many good men, and many good friends who stood with me on the picket lines in 1923 opted to not even fight the allegations, lest they make things worse."

"So," Phryne surmised, "now someone has suggested that there was a nefarious reason that nothing was found in that box to implicate you and that you are to blame? That seems far fetched, Jack."

"If you think about it, I was Sanderson's son-in-law, or former son-in-law," Jack stammered, "I pulled rank to take charge of the investigation at the Imperial Club, if you remember."

Phryne nodded. "I do recall just how put out the sergeant was at Sanderson's house when you ripped the crime scene notes and photos out of his hand, Jack."

"I took pains to make sure that George was protected, even after you reminded me not to be emotional about the case." Jack paused, took another deep swig of whiskey, and refilled his glass. "Time and time again, George interfered in investigations, and I let him do it. Just think of the case involving the football club. I trusted his judgment., and all the while he and Fletcher were using me as their puppet"

"But you had no reason not too, and above all, he was your superior. For trusting his judgment, you might get sacked? That hardly seems fair." Phryne said.

"Maybe, but this isn't just about one thing. Rosie is my ex-wife. Some people in the department don't approve of a detective inspector having an ex-wife. Even more people don't approve of an inspector with an ex-wife whose father was a corrupt policeman and whose new fiancée was a slave trader."

Intense pain darkened Jack's grey-green eyes, and he emptied his glass. At that moment, it dawned on Phryne that she had never seen Jack this vulnerable. He did not hide his feelings well, and this was the worst she had seen him. Such a difference from the playful soul he tried to be earlier this evening. It pained her even more as she realized that his earlier banter in the Library had all been an act for her benefit.

"The words Halloway used in my review hearing," Jack continued, "were that the Department viewed me as 'chronically unfit for a position of public trust, having betrayed a lack of judgment in my personal life and investigations over a year or more'." Phryne suspected that his connection with her had not helped matters, but she did not say anything and Jack showed his esteem for her by not mentioning it.

Without realizing it, she had been moving closer to Jack as they spoke, and now they were standing in front of the fire place just inches apart. After hours on her feet and exhausted, Jack thought, she looked as fresh and beautiful as the first moment Jack saw her that evening. The lights were dim, but the flames in the fireplace danced off of the beads in her dress and matched her sparkling eyes. The soft gold accents on the peacock green walls glowed warmly. "Jack," Phryne said, putting her hand to touch the side of his chin, "You know don't ever have to defend yourself in front of me."

Jack's voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I know," he said, leaning in. Their hands just touched on the fireplace mantle as the attraction between pulled him in closer than he should have allowed. His career hung in the balance, but after a long night, two glasses of whiskey, and a dress that had piqued his imagination for hours, he could only think of one thing.

Phryne looked at him squarely in the eyes. "We'll find a way out of this, Jack," and as her lips parted slightly, Phryne murmured, "that's what partners do."

Partners. Jack straightened up at the word. Could they be partners again, he wondered? Phryne had once told him that he was of the most use to her as a police inspector, and Jack wasn't sure he would be one for much longer. What value would he be then? The truth is, Jack didn't know where he stood with her, and he certainly did not want to be another in Phryne's collection of wayward souls.

Jack held Phryne's gaze for several seconds, but the spell was broken. "It's late, Miss Fisher. It's been a long night." Jack wanted to say more, but he couldn't risk alienating her or hurting himself.

"But, Jack, we have not even discussed the case." Phryne said, confused.

"I expect the police have things well under control, " Jack said, looking defeated as he set down his empty glass. Earlier that evening, he was elated when Phryne said she would accompany him to the Gala. He was hopeful that they could fall into their old rhythm and that he could explain to her what had been going on in his life. But an earl, a murder, and Jack's public humiliation by Halloway got in the way. Whatever they had together, Jack realized, was not going to be sorted out tonight. "I can see myself out."

Phryne stood silently. She wasn't sure what had just happened and she didn't want to end the night with so much still left unsaid between them, but Jack seemed determined to leave. He walked to the coat rack, put on his coat, and grabbed his hat in his right hand and turned to Phryne.

"I look forward to it, _Inspector_," Phryne said, still standing by the fireplace with one hand still on the fireplace mantle. She tried not betray her disappointment as Jack left the house without another word. Phryne walked over to lock the front door and watched him walk to his car through the stained glass. Phryne wondered whether he was going home to Rosie and if Jack would ever be _her_ Inspector Robinson again.

Phryne went back to the living room and sat down on one the mustard velvet armchairs in front of the fire with another glass of whisky. She started making two lists: one of suspects in Mrs. Winters' murder and another of things that needed to be done in order to clear Jack's name.


End file.
